Allan and the Ice Gods (14 page)

sentiments were received in silence. Indeed, if they thought about the

matter at all, most of them, comparing men and the beasts, would have

been inclined to give the palm to the latter.

Could any man, they would have said, and in fact did say in private

argument afterward, match the strength of the aurochs, the wild bull

of the woods, or of the whale of the waters. Could any man swim like a

seal or fly like a bird, or be as swift and savage as the striped

tiger that dwelt or used to dwell in caves, or hunt in packs like the

fierce ravening wolves, or build such houses as the birds did, or fly

through the air, or do many other things with the perfection of the

creatures which lived and moved in the seas and sky or upon the earth?

While, as for the other side of the matter, were not these creatures

in their own way as clever as man was? Also, although their language

was not to be understood, did they not talk together as men did and

worship their own gods? Who could doubt it that had heard the wolves

and dogs howling at the moon? But of all this at that time they said

nothing.

Having laid down this general rule, Wi went on to say that, as things

were thus, he had given ear to the complaints of the people, and after

consulting with sundry of the wisest among them, had determined that

the time had come to make new laws which all must bind themselves to

obey. Or if all would not, then those who refused must give way to the

majority who consented to them, or if they rebelled, must be treated

as evildoers and punished. If they agreed to this, let them say so

with one voice.

This they did, first because they were tired of sitting still and it

gave them an opportunity of shouting, and second because they had not

heard the laws. Only one or two of the most cunning exclaimed that

they would like to hear the laws first, but these were overruled by

the cries of general approbation.

“To begin with,” continued Wi, “there was the matter of scarcity of

women, which could only be remedied to some extent by every man in

future binding himself to be content with a single wife, as he, Wi,

was prepared to do, swearing by the gods that he would keep to his

oath and calling down on his own head and on the head of the people of

which he was the chief the anger and the vengeance of the gods should

he break it and should they allow him to do so.”

Now, in the silence which followed this amazing announcement, Tana

whispered to Aaka delightedly:

“Do you hear, Sister? What do you think of this law?”

“I think that it amounts to nothing at all,” answered Aaka

contemptuously. “Wi and the other men will obey it until they see

someone who makes them wish to break it; moreover, many of the women

will find it hateful. When they grow old, will they wish to have to do

all the work of the household and to cook the food for the whole

family? That for this law, which is foolish, like all new things!”

Here she snapped her fingers. “Still, let it go on, seeing that it

will give us a stick with which to beat our husbands when they forget

it, as doubtless Wi himself will find out before all is done, the

silly dreamer who thinks that he can change the nature of men with a

few words. Unless, indeed, it was Pag who put it into his head, Pag

who is neither man nor woman, but just a dwarf and a wolfhound.”

“Wolfhounds are very useful sometimes, Aaka,” said Tana reflectively,

then turned to listen to the voices about her.

These, as it happened, were many, for as soon as the meaning of Wi’s

startling proposal had come home to the minds of his audience, great

tumult arose. All the men who had no wives, or wished for those of

others, shouted for joy, as did many of the women who were members of

large households and therefore much neglected. On the other hand, some

of the lords of those households protested with vigour, whereas others

acquiesced with a shrug and a smile.

Long and loud was the debate, but at length it ended in a compromise,

the polygamists agreeing to the proposal provided that they were

allowed to keep that wife whom they liked best; also, to change her

when they wished, by mutual consent of all concerned. As public

opinion among the tribe, an easy-going folk, was tolerant on such

matters, ultimately his solution was accepted by all except by Wi

himself. He, with the new-born enthusiasm of the reformer, and as one

who wished to set an example, rose and exempted himself solemnly from

the arrangement.

“Others may do what they will,” he said, “but it is known that I, the

chief, will never change my wife while she lives, no, not even if she

desires me to do so, which can scarcely happen. Hearken, O People,

once more I swear by the gods to lay their curse upon me if I break

this, my oath. Moreover, lest at any time I should grow weak and

foolish and be tempted so to do, I pray the gods, if that chances, to

lay their curse upon the people also, all of them, from the oldest to

the youngest.”

Here some of his audience grew uneasy and a voice shouted out:

“For what reason?”

“Because,” answered Wi, in his burning zeal, “knowing the evil that my

ill-doing would bring upon your heads, never would I yield to folly, I

who am your chief and your protector. Also, if I went mad and did such

a thing, you could kill me.”

Silence followed this remarkable declaration, in the midst of which

Hotoa the Slow-speeched at last got out a question.

“How would killing you help us, Wi, if the curse for which you have

been asking had already fallen upon our heads? Moreover, who is likely

to kill you while you have that wonderful ax with which you chopped

Henga in two?” he asked.

Before Wi could think of a suitable answer, for the question was

shrewd and the point one which he had not considered, the general

argument broke out again, many women taking part in it at the top of

their voices, so that he lost his opportunity. At length three men

were thrust forward, a somewhat ominous trio as it happened, Pitokiti

the Unlucky, Hou the Unstable, and Whaka the Bird-of-Ill-Omen, of whom

Whaka was the spokesman.

“Chief Wi,” he said, “the people have heard your proposals as to

marriage. Many of us do not like them because they overthrow old

customs. Still, we acknowledge that something must be done lest the

people should come to an end, for those who have many wives bring up

no more children than those who have but one. Also, the unmarried turn

into murderers and thieves both of women and of other property.

Therefore, we accept the new law for a period of five summers, which

will give us time to see how it works. Also, we note your oath that

you will take no other wife while Aaka lives and that you call down

the curse of the gods upon yourself if you do so. We do not think that

you will keep that oath, for, being a chief, who can do what he likes,

why should you? But when you break it, we shall wait to see if the

curse falls upon you. As for the rest, that you call it down on the

people also, with that we will have nothing to do, nor do we believe

it. For why should the people suffer because you break an oath? If

there are gods, they will be avenged upon him who does the wrong, not

on others who are innocent. Therefore, speaking on behalf of the

people, I say that we accept your law, though for myself I add that I

am sure no good can ever come of the changing of ancient customs.

Indeed, I daresay that the curse will fall upon you and that soon you

will be dead.”

Thus spoke Whaka the Bird-of-Ill-Omen, fulfilling his repute, and

retired with his companions.

By now it was growing dark, for all this debate had taken a long time;

moreover, many of the people had slipped away to try to make new

arrangements in view of this sudden and unexpected revolution in their

matrimonial law. Therefore, Wi adjourned the discussion of the next

rule of his new code, that which dealt with the exposure of unwanted

female infants, till the morrow, and the tribal conference broke up.

That night, he slept in the hut where he lived before he became chief,

and at the evening meal tried to open a discussion with Aaka on his

great new law. She listened for a minute, then remarked that she had

heard enough of it that afternoon, and if he wanted to talk more of

the matter instead of eating his food and discussing what was of real

importance, namely, how she should lay up her winter stores now that

he had become chief, he had better do so with his counsellor Pag.

This retort angered Wi, who said:

“Do you not understand that this law makes women taller by a head than

they have been, for now they are the equals of men, who give up much?”

“If so,” answered Aaka, “you should first have asked us whether we

wished to grow taller. Had you done so, you would have found, I think,

that the most of us were content to remain the same size, seeing that

we do not desire more work and more children. Still, it matters

little, for your law is all nonsense, one made by fools, of whom I

should hold you the biggest, did I not know that you speak with the

mouth of Pag the woman-hater and the cutter down of old trees.” (By

this she meant the destroyer of old customs.) “Man is man and woman is

woman, and what they have done from the beginning they will continue

to do. Nor will you change them by talking, Wi, although you think

yourself so clever. Yet, I am glad to learn that I shall have no pert

girls thrust into my household, or so you swore, calling down curses

on your own head in the presence of many witnesses, like a fool, for

when you break the oath you will find them troublesome to deal with.”

Then, with a sigh, Wi grew silent. He had thought to please Aaka, whom

he loved and had suffered much to win, and who, he knew, loved him in

her fashion, although often she treated him so roughly. Still, he

noted that it was her purpose to take advantage of this law, so far as

she was concerned, and to keep him for herself alone. Why, then, he

wondered, did she belittle that of which she meant to take advantage,

a thing which no man would do? Then he shrugged his shoulders and

began to talk of the winter food and of the plans which he and Pag had

made whereby all would be assured of plenty.

That night, toward dawn, they were awakened by a great tumult. Women

shrieked and men shouted. The boy Foh, who slept on the other side of

the hut behind a skin curtain, crept out to see what was the matter,

thinking, perhaps, that the wolves had carried off someone. Presently

he returned and reported that there was fighting going on, but he did

not know what about.

Now Wi wished to rise, and look into the matter, but Aaka bade him lie

still, saying:

“Keep quiet. It is your new law at work, that is all.”

When morning came, this proved to be true enough. Some wives of old

husbands had run away from them to young lovers, and some men who had

no wives had captured or tried to capture them by force, with the

result that there was much fighting, in which one old man had been

killed and others, male and female, injured.

Aaka laughed at Wi about this business, but he was so sad that he did

not try to answer her, only he said:

“You treat me hardly, Wife, of late, who am trying to do my best and

who love you, as I proved long ago when I fought a man who wished to

take you against your will and killed him, which brought much anger

and trouble on me. Then you thanked me and we came together and for

years lived happily. At last Henga, who hated me and had always

desired to take you into the cave, caught our daughter Fo-a and killed

her, and from that time you who loved Fo-a more than you do Foh, have

changed toward me, although that this happened was no fault of mine.”

“It was your fault,” she answered, “for you should have stayed to

watch Fo-a instead of going out to hunt to please yourself.”

“I did not hunt to please myself, I hunted to get meat. Moreover, if

you had asked me, I would have left Pag to watch the girl.”

“So the dwarf has been telling you that tale, has he? Then know the

truth. He did offer to stay with Fo-a, but I would not have that

hideous beast guarding my daughter.”

“Pag has told me no tale, though it is true that, doubtless to shield

you, he reproached me for having taken him out hunting when there was

danger from Henga. Wife, you have done ill, for, if you hate Pag, yet

he loves me and mine, and had you allowed him to bide with Fo-a, she

would have been alive to-day. But let that matter be—the dead are

dead and we shall see them no more. Afterward, I prayed to the gods,

as you wished, and challenged Henga, and killed him, taking vengeance

on him, as you also wished, Pag helping me with his wisdom and by the

gift of the ax. And now I have driven away all the chief’s women, who

were mine by right of custom, and have made a law that henceforth a

man shall have but one wife; and, that I might set an example as